Rewriting Thanksgiving History
by MrDrP
Summary: It's Thanksgiving, KP style! COMPLETE


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Thanks to campy for proofreading this on such incredibly short notice.

KP © Disney.

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"Okay, people, listen up!"

All heads – well, the two present, to be exact – turned at the sound of the familiar booming voice of Steve Barkin.

"We're going to have some visitors."

"KP, why are we all wearing Pilgrim clothes?" Ron quietly asked Kim. "Not that they don't look good on you."

"It's a Thanksgiving sitch," she whispered. "And thanks for being sweet about this Puritan fashion disaster. This is so not my look."

"I don't know, the Ronman kind of likes the history look on his feminina," he said as he reached for his girlfriend's hand.

"Stoppable!" the high school teacher bellowed.

"Mister B?" Ron responded nervously.

"You know the rules: no bundling!"

"Uh, Mister Barkin, just in case Kim here doesn't know …"

The auburn-haired young woman glared at her BF, who gulped. Then her expression suddenly softened and she looked a bit chagrined.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Actually, I don't know what bundling is," she admitted.

"Mid-seventeenth century courting ritual involving two fully dressed young people, a dividing screen, and a bed," Barkin explained.

"And you know that how?" Kim wondered.

"If you weren't so busy engaging in inappropriate romantic behavior with your non-conformist punk of a boyfriend, Possible, you'd remember that I grew up at Port Mystic Cove Haven, where the ways of the past are preserved in the present so that when the future becomes yesterday everyone will remember where they were, are, and will be!"

Kim and Ron exchanged a glance of utter and total confusion.

"Fine!" Barkin bellowed. "No PDA on school property!"

"Aw man," Ron whined.

Kim raised her hand.

"Yes, Possible?" Barkin wearily asked.

"Sorry to harsh your disciplinary plans, Mister Barkin, but we're not on school property."

"My bon-diggity girlfriend's got you there," Ron said. "And even if we were, we're not your students any more. We graduated – we're aluminums!"

"I think you mean alumni," Kim suggested.

"You sure, KP?"

"So sure, thanks to you and your desire to get the down low on J. Lo."

"Ah, Latin," Ron said with surprising wistfulness. "_Bonus vicis, bonus vicis_."

"Are you two done?" Barkin asked impatiently.

Kim and Ron considered the question, then nodded at their former teacher.

"As I was trying to say," Barkin growled, "we here at Middleton Plantation survived the depravations of a most fearsome winter, thanks to the munificence of a benevolent Providence and the unanticipated but exigent intervention of the kindly savages who inhabit the vast forests nearby …"

"Is it me or is he even more Barkiny than usual?" Kim asked _sotto voce_.

"Black Friday flashback issues," Ron explained knowingly.

_4:35 am, Aisle 72, Housewares Department, Middleton Smarty Mart, the Friday after the previous Thanksgiving …_

"_I'll take that, sonny!" the elderly customer demanded as she wrested the novelty appliance from the hands of a surprised Steve Barkin._

"_I'm sorry, ma'am," he stammered as he tried to recover control of the situation, "but only one combo blender-DVD player per customer."_

"_Says who?" the bargain-seeking senior citizen countered._

"_Says Smarty Mart policy," Barkin explained as he tried to take the product from the gray-haired woman._

"_Stuff Smarty Mart policy," she said as she clutched onto the appliance with surprising strength._

"_Stuff Smarty Mart policy? Are you insane? It's the foundation on which retail civilization is built! Without it, chaos will reign, turtles and baby otters will cohabitate, anarchy will run rampant, disorder—" _

"_Take him, girls!"_

_At first, Barkin was confused. The rules-scoffing old woman was alone. Then he heard the unnerving, chilling tapping-and-scraping sound to his rear. He wheeled, and his eyes opened wide in fear. There, coming for him, were at least two dozen determined white-haired senior citizens brandishing their walkers, canes and Black Friday Brainstorm Blow-Out sale circulars._

_Steve Barkin knew he didn't stand a chance …_

"So many dentures …" the veteran of Hai A'Lai mumbled repeatedly before he forced himself to focus on the present and his current historical ramblings. "The indigenous peoples, though not civilized in the ways of we good Christian men and women of Europe—"

"Excuse me," Ron interrupted, waving his hand.

"Now what?" he replied, not bothering to conceal his exasperation.

"I'm Jewish. And I'm from the good ole' U.S. of A."

"Ron has a point," Kim agreed.

"I was speaking metaphorically," Barkin snapped.

"Uh, school word," Ron cautioned.

Barkin glowered at his former student. "I was trying to say that the Native Americans extended a helping hand to the Pilgrims."

"Well, you could have just said that to begin with," Ron said huffily. "Though as long as we're on the topic, if I was born here, and KP was, and you were, aren't we all native Americans, too? Which means we were bringing dinner to ourselves. It would be like being in that time travel episode of _Captain Constellation_ where he met himself at his junior prom on Rigel X!"

"You may be my best friend boyfriend but you are such the geek sometimes," Kim observed with a bemused smile.

"Hey, I am what I is!" Ron said proudly.

"Hi guys!"

Kim and Ron turned to see Wade, Monique, and Rufus approaching, all dressed in pilgrim outfits.

"Wade, Monique!" Kim said happily.

"Little Buddy!" Ron added as Rufus scampered up his human's arm.

"Okay, girlfriend," Monique said as she took Kim's arm. "What's the deal with the retro fashions we're styling? These are definitely not Club B approved."

"Thanksgiving sitch," Kim said.

"Is Ron cooking?" Monique asked.

"Yes, yes I am!" Ron hastily declared as he recalled where and how Barkin learned to cook.

"Then I'm there!" Monique said eagerly.

"Me too!" Rufus added. "Mmm hmmmm."

"What about you, Wade?" Kim asked.

"Well, it's nice to be out of my room," he said approvingly before he looked around. "Shouldn't there be some Native Americans here, though?"

"Wade, my man," Ron said as he draped his arm around his younger friend's shoulder. "Interesting that you should ask that because I was just talking—"

"Ron. Focus. Now," Kim said sharply.

"Gotcha, KP," he said sheepishly.

"Good," she replied as she gave him a buss on the cheek.

"Great Mother of Pearl!" Barkin exclaimed. "Our indigenous guests will be here soon!"

"So we still have a little time to marinate?" Ron asked.

"We need to prepare, stat!" Barkin answered. "Move! Move! Move!"

The five humans and one mole rate quickly got to work, setting up a trestle table. As Kim, Monique, Wade and Rufus began laying out plates and utensils and Mister Barkin started to construct a perimeter defense of logs he had felled with his Czech Army Spoon, Ron began considering his few options for preparing the meal. "Man, this tanks," he said as he examined the sparse selection of ingredients at his disposal.

"What's the sitch?" Kim asked as she joined her boyfriend.

"The cupboard is as empty as Cafeteria Lady's heart, KP! What are we going to do?"

"Hide Princess under Plymouth Rock," a familiar voice suggested snidely. "Twenty-first century or seventeenth, she's still a fashion disaster."

Kim spun around and assumed a fighting stance. "Shego!"

"No, Pocahontas, Kimmie," snarked the green-hued villainess, who was wearing traditional Native American garb, albeit in her trademark colors of green and black.

"Hey, wait a minute," Ron noted. "If Shego's an Indian, that means that …"

"Hola, the sachem is in!" Drakken announced grandly.

"That is so many flavors of wrong," Kim said as she got a good look at her arch-foe, who was wearing buckskin breeches and a ridiculously large war bonnet. "And Newsflash, Drakken: You're supposed to be a Wampanoag!" she noted, hands on her hips.

"And your point is?" he replied huffily.

"Hello? Cultural and historical accuracy? That headdress is so Apache!"

"You think you're all that with your superior knowledge of Native American regional garb, Kim Possible," Drakken sneered. "But you're not! Without my evil feast, you and your pilgrim friends will go hungry!"

"I so think not," Kim said. "Ron will come up with something for us to eat!"

"Uh, bark stew anyone?" Ron said unenthusiastically as he held aloft an all-but-empty pot.

Kim grimaced. "Fine, villainous victuals it is. But we are so not giving thanks for evil."

"Bring it, boys!" a beaming Drakken commanded, and his henchmen, who were also dressed as Native Americans, save for their wraparound visors, began to carry in baskets overflowing with food.

As one of the men struggled by with an immense turkey, Kim turned to Shego. "That bird so doesn't look kosher. Mutant?"

"Actually, Doctor D decided to go tech-free this year," Shego said, not bothering to hide her amazement at Drakken's self-restraint. "It isn't even cloned."

"You know me," he said cheerfully as pansy petals erupted around his neck and a vine emerged to pull Shego close to him. "I'm all about going green!"

"Oh, you did not …" Kim said as she pulled a face.

"Watch it, Pumpkin," Shego hissed. "At least I'm not making kissy face with monkey boy over there."

Kim clenched her fists and growled.

"Ladies, ladies," Ron said in an attempt to placate the two martial-arts experts. "Peace out."

"I don't like when she disses you," Kim snarled.

"Hey, it's like milk off a duck's head," he offered.

"Okay, people," Barkin yelled. "Listen up …"

"Please tell me he doesn't have his ukulele …" Shego groaned.

"Do I even want to know?" Kim asked.

"No. No you don't," Shego said with unaccustomed solicitude.

"… Get to your places, NOW, so we can commence chowing down our Thanksgiving grub!"

"Kimmie? Ron?"

Kim looked around for her mother, but didn't see her.

"Kids, wake up."

Kim opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the smiling visage of Ann Possible. "Mom?"

Ron blinked his eyes open. "Mrs. Dr. P?"

Kim and Ron both realized they were cuddled up on the Possible family couch wearing their normal twenty-first century clothes, and not back in the seventeenth century in the midst of a very whacked celebration.

"What's the sitch?" Kim asked as she yawned and stretched.

"You two nodded off on the couch," she said warmly. "It's time for dessert."

"Okay, we'll be right in," Kim said. After her mother left, she snuggled up against Ron. "I had the weirdest dream. We were pilgrims …"

"… And Barkin was running things and we had no food until …" he continued.

"… Drakken and Shego showed up?" Kim asked, her eyebrow arched, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Ron nodded. "Kooky."

"Understatement much?" she said with a grin. Then she wrapped her arms around Ron and kissed him.

"What was that for?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Just thinking of the things I'm grateful for," she said as she continued to embrace him. "Happy Thanksgiving, Ron."

"Back 'atcha, KP," he said. "So what are you thankful for?"

Kim sighed with contentment. "You. The fam. Our health. Our friends. You?"

"Same things as you," he replied, "except I also get to be grateful for having the most badical girlfriend in the world …"

Kim smiled. "I'm most def keeping you around."

"… And the fact that we don't have to eat meat cakes on Thanksgiving."

"Excuse me?" she asked, caught off guard.

"Meat cakes. I can't stand 'em!"

"Come on," Kim said with an affectionate shake of the head as she took Ron's hand, rose to her feet, and led him to the dining room. "I think Mom has some pumpkin pie waiting for us. I just hope it's not shaped like an internal organ …"

_The End._

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Best wishes for a wonderful Thanksgiving to you and yours from all of us at the DrP household!_


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